Pain and Rain and Gray
by EponineOnMyOwnThenardier
Summary: A series of one-shots with Natalie's thoughts on different situations, some from Next to Normal, some from my own brain.
1. Mirror, Mirror

((AN: Okay, so. I'd just like to start out by saying that I realize that the way this one's written is a little weird. I just thought that the almost omniscient style and the disjointedness worked with what I was trying to get across in this story. Anywho, as goes with any of the stories on this website, I do not own anything but the idea for this story in particular. Which, I guess I don't own all of that. I mean, I didn't create the scenario that allowed this story, I just wrote what I thought the character would be thinking (boy, can I get any more vague to protect details of my precious little plot bunny until you get to the actual reading portion?). If I were Tom Kitt and Bryan Yorkey and owned anything from Next to Normal, I would be polishing my Tony, not writing fan fiction about it. That being said, enjoy the story!))

_Who am I? _ All I can do as I look in the cracked, grimy mirror is wonder, who is this girl looking back at me? This girl with her wild looking, blood shot eyes, who is she? This restless creature who can't sit still, who blacks out in bathroom stalls at three in the morning, this person living in a constant haze… How did she get here, and what did she do to Natalie Goodman?

_It had only been a month, right_? Only a month had passed since my mother's suicide attempt… Only a month had passed since the ECT… That's when it started, the night dad told me. When I realized that mom never was going to get better, that our only chance to fix her was to let a doctor fry her brains out… That was when things got really bad. Sure, I'd considered trying drugs to fix it all before. Henry had offered me pot in the past, but that was when things got real. That was the moment when Mozart stopped being enough, when escaping to Yale in May wasn't a quick enough solution.

Now, staring in the mirror, not even recognizing myself, it's clear how far I've really fallen. _Now I'm just as bad as mom, aren't I_? Dependant on the drugs, barely hanging on, trying to escape the demons in my mind…

I reach into my purse at this thought, grabbing the first bottle my fingers find, and I pull it out. Hands shaking, I manage to open them, to pour a few into my palm. I don't bother reading the label. I quit trying to keep track of what I was taking ages ago, and either way, I can identify the pills based on their color. _Valium. _ Mom had made a few jokes about the color of Valium before. _It wasn't a bad color_…

Tearing my eyes away from the pills in my hand, I glance around myself. _I know I brought a Red Bull in here… There it is, on the counter… _ I pick it up, use the last bits to swallow the pills. I can't help it, my eyes wander back to the mirror, to that stupid mirror, to the pathetic looking girl staring back at me from the glass. I drop the empty Red Bull can, not registering the fact that I'm balling my fist, that I'm striking the mirror. I can feel a sting in my knuckles, I'm bleeding, but I don't care. I'm looking at the already existing cracks have spread, altering the stupid reflection yet again, making it harder to recognize. But hey, I'm satisfied. _I don't see those pathetic eyes. _


	2. Promises

((AN: Hello again readers! As with the last story, I don't own the rights to Next to Normal. _Darn. _ I do, however, own this little story, and hope that you all enjoy it! As with any story, reviews are appreciated! In fact, looking at my email and seeing that a story has a review makes my day. So, when you finish, let me know what you think! How's that sound? On to the story!))

Staring at my bedroom floor, I could feel my throat getting thick with tears. Everything out of Henry's mouth was a promise; at this moment, a promise not to leave. Not if I went crazy like my mom, not if I kept popping pills and putting myself in stupid situations, nothing could make him leave… I felt tears running down my cheeks now, hot and sticky. Nothing I said could make him understand that I didn't want him to hurt the way I had seen my dad hurt for the past sixteen years. He was so damn persistent. And he just kept talking, telling me that it would get better, that he loved me, that he would be by my side every step of the way. I was beginning to feel sick to my stomach, though I wasn't sure if that was the result of several days without the pills or my fear of becoming my mother.

Eyes still locked on my old, faded rug, I finally spoke. "And if I want you to leave?" My voice came out stronger than I had expected it would. The silence in the room became tense, and I could tell I caught him off guard.

After a moment, I looked up at him. I could see a hint of fear in his eyes; he was trying to convince himself I wasn't serious. His doubt was exactly what I needed.

"Natalie…"He spoke softly, his voice shaking.

"I mean it," I snapped back, tapping into my anger at myself. This was for his sake. "Go Henry. Just leave! I'm done! I'm just… done…"

I could feel my heart sink with every second that passed. He was crushed, it was clear on his face… In silence, I turned and fixed my gaze on my vanity mirror, watching my door in its reflection. Maybe he needed to be crushed, to learn to put himself first sometimes…

I could see him turn, could see him walk to the door and leave as I stared into the mirror. I turned to my desk as soon as the door was closed and his footsteps could be heard in the distance. Tears flowing more freely, I shoved the contents to the floor, fighting back sobs. It was my turn to keep a promise, the promise I had made to myself not to hurt Henry, to protect him from the mess I knew I was…

Stepping carefully over textbooks and papers, I crossed my room to stand before my window, pressed my hand to the glass. It was cool to the touch. Rain had started falling outside and Henry was in his car, pulling out of the driveway. I closed my eyes and set my forehead against the pane, sinking to my knees as a sob worked its way out. That was it, we were through, I had actually done it. I had kept my promise to myself.


	3. Blue

((AN: It occurred to me that, perhaps, I should do something a bit more fluffy and light hearted to balance out the other one shots in this series. Plus, the thought was cute when it popped into my head! I still don't own Next to Normal. Reviews are still appreciated.))

I stretched out on my bed, staring up at a small crack in the ceiling. I know I did something to cause that crack. I'm sure of it. I can't remember what I did, but I made that crack. I could feel the mattress shift beside me, the weight of another person causing it to sag a bit. Then he put his arm around me. I allowed a small smile to pass across my face, if only momentarily, eyes still locked on that crack.

Here, with Henry's arm around me, the world felt safe. It was warm. He was holding me securely to him and I could feel his rib cage expand every time he took a breath. If I moved my head a little closer I could hear his heart beat. Taking deep breaths in through my nose, I relaxed even further. He smelled like pot. But he also smelled like soap and some kind of cologne. The smell had become so familiar to me lately. I was beginning to associate it with good times, happy times. But I wasn't going to tell him that. That was sappy. It was tacky. It was one hundred percent cliché, and Natalie Goodman was anything but. No, I wasn't going to tell him that. But I would make sure he knew he was appreciated. He would know that I felt the same way for him that he felt for me, even if I couldn't get those three little words, even if it wasn't as easy for me to profess my love for him as he could to me, he'd know…

"Something on your mind?" He asked me, startling me out of my thoughts.

I remained silent for a moment, unable to come up with any kind of answer. "What's your favorite color?" I finally blurted out.

I didn't have to look at him to know that he was shifting; he was turning to look at me. He was studying my face, probably wondering what brought that question on. I could almost feel his smile when he decided to answer me. "Blue."

The way he said it told me he wasn't done speaking. I knew there was some story behind it, something he wanted to tell. He was just waiting for me to ask. I continued to stare at the crack in the ceiling for a moment, not wanting to seem too eager. Then, I rolled over onto my side, propping myself up on my elbow to look at him. "Blue?"

He nodded, reaching out to push a bit of hair away from my eyes. There was that grin again. Dear God, I hoped he couldn't hear how fast my heart was beating now. "Blue… because, when I first saw you, years ago, back before you ever noticed me," the look he gave me when he said that told me he was only teasing, but I still felt awkward about that," you were wearing this blue shirt. And you looked absolutely miserable. You looked like you wanted to be anywhere else on earth, anywhere but stuck in that classroom. And all I could think was how blue made your eyes stand out."

I stared at him in silence for a moment before leaning in and kissing him gently. His hand came up to cup my cheek, palm pleasantly warm. I closed my eyes, letting the kiss linger, enjoying the closeness for a moment before pulling away slightly. "You are so sappy, "I whispered.

"So you tell me, like, every other day," he responded with a chuckle as he lay back down in the bed. I grinned, laying beside him once more, placing my head on his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. So, his favorite color was blue… I'd have to remember that…


End file.
